Sweet Revenge
by Ranguvar27
Summary: Rumplestiltskin hates people who welsh on deals, the Queen, and being called 'Rumpie.' Based on a remark made by Robert Carlyle that anybody calling him 'Rumpie' would be turned into a snail.


Sweet Revenge

Rumplestiltskin hated many things. He hated people that tried to welsh on deals. He hated the Queen. He hated not being able to reach the top shelf in a cupboard without the use of magic or a ladder.

But if there was one thing he hated more than anything in the world, it was being called _**Rumpie.**_

He'd always known his name was hard to pronounce, and sometimes would curse his parents for giving him such a mouthful for a name. As a human child, the other boys in the village he grew up in had teased him unmercifully about his name, and it had been a farmer's son named Brutus that had gleefully bestowed the hated nickname upon him at the age of seven. From that point on, the boys of the village-who were all at least a head taller than and twice as broad as the skinny and small Rumplestiltskin-would chase him through the square, mocking him. "Dumpy Rumpie! Dumpy Rumpie!"

As he grew up and his talent at spinning wool became known, the teases and jibes had only gotten worse. Brutus took sadistic pleasure in 'accidentally' spilling the wool that Rumple was carrying to market in the muddy road, ruining it. Rumple would have stood up to him if he had been six foot and in better shape, but the truth was that every time the oaf glanced in his direction he would feel his knees knocking together. So he endured the taunts, threats, and assault with quiet dignity, secretly vowing that one day everyone that tormented him would pay.

When the War started, Rumplestiltskin had held out some hope that the chance to prove his bravery was finally upon him. But all that changed the instant he had seen an ogre. The creature had looked straight into his eyes, and Rumplestiltskin had screamed himself hoarse. He deserted two weeks later, coming home under a cloud of shame and humiliation.

But now, he had the means and magic needed to extract sweet revenge on Brutus and his entire gang of bullying toadies. First though, he had to look the part.

He cast off his usual outfit of leather, replacing it with the shepherd's frock and cape he had last worn when he was human. He had his dagger hidden in the pouch at his side, and his cowl concealed his face well enough. He knew that Brutus would still be in the village-the idiot had never once expressed any sort of interest in the outside world, and his gang would follow him like mongrel dogs.

Rumplestiltskin was not surprised in the least to discover that his childhood home had not changed at all. Same people, now older, same sense of hopelessness, same farmers and crafters eking out a meager living from the land and the sheep. He felt a brief stab of pain at seeing his home lying open and empty, but it quickly turned to mad glee when he noticed Brutus.

He was standing outside the tavern, surrounded by his lackeys and being swooned over by beautiful women as he bragged about his exploits. Rumple stood nearby, trying not to fall asleep. How was it he had never realized what an utter and complete bore the buffoon was? "Well, that's an interesting story."

Brutus looked at him, his piggy eyes glinting in anger, and Rumple felt a sense of profound…boredom. He wanted this over and done with. "Who the devil are you?"

Rumplestiltskin cackled madly. "Who the devil indeed, Brutus. Who…the…Devil." He giggled at Brutus' clueless look. "Oh, really, this is hopeless. You have the IQ of a severed tree stump, after all." He drew back his hood, and Brutus blinked at him.

"Is that…" he suddenly began laughing, holding his sides, and his cronies laughed along with him. "I don't believe it! It's Rumpie! Oh my gods, what did you do to yourself? You look even more stupid than you ever did! That skin…" He went off on a fresh peal of laughter, tears flowing from his eyes. "Oh gods, this is the best joke ever!"

One of his cronies noticed the look of pure rage in Rumplestiltskin's eyes. "Uhhh…Brutus…maybe you shouldn't…"

"Shut up, Devon. My gods, Rumpie, you really are a strange one."

Rumplestiltskin suddenly smiled, and the look on his face made Brutus feel rather uncomfortable. "Oh Brutus, you have no idea how strange I am now. So…very strange. And I do believe I've told you before about calling me Rumpie."

Brutus drew himself up to his full height and stomped over to Rumplestiltskin, poking him hard in the chest. "Yeah, you have. What are you going to do about it, Rumpie? Threaten to hit me? Spin me on your wheel? You're going to do what you've always done, which is to run away! Rumpie the coward!" He laughed, and his followers obediently mimicked him.

Rumplestiltskin bit his lip, then grinned and snapped his fingers, and Brutus and his gang were enveloped in a cloud of bright purple smoke. When the smoke cleared, where there had once been a gang of strapping farmers were a cluster of large snails. The girls screamed and ran, and Rumple stepped forward, scooping the snails up and sticking them into his pouch.

He would have himself a fine meal tonight.

_**A/N: This fic is based on a remark Robert Carlyle made on Twitter about how anybody that called Rumplestiltskin 'Rumpie' would be turned into a snail. I decided to expand on that a bit. Timeline wise, this takes place right after Bae's left him. **_


End file.
